


Trapped Light

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: Sam really shouldn't be here - he should be in the library, studying, taking notes, but somehow he's here. She, on the other hand, she's... in her pyjamas, a bleached baby blue shirt up to her thighs with her dark pink, star-pattern panties clinging low to her bony hips underneath. And she's not ashamed at all, nor should she be; watching her, Sam finds himself swallowing all too often with shivers rushing down his spine.





	

* * *

 

She's beautiful. The afternoon sun's coming through the window and Sam really shouldn't be here - he should be in the library, studying, taking notes, but somehow he's here. It's 1pm and hot as hell, with the heat leaking through every crack and pathway it can find, and he's sweating, but too shy to take off his shirt. She, on the other hand, she's... in her pyjamas, a bleached baby blue shirt up to her thighs with her dark pink, star-pattern panties clinging low to her bony hips underneath. And she's not ashamed at all, nor should she be; she's full of smiles, fresh out the shower so that her hair's still slightly moist, and she's talking and talking about the painting she's working on, her fingertips already covered in green and blue paint with a hint of orange stuck to her pinky. Sam finds himself swallowing all too often with shivers rushing down his spine.

She sits on his lap while they drink coffees. It's 2pm and she smells like wild flowers and feels soft and warm like a ray of summer sunlight caught within a human body. He's holding her with one arm, easily wrapping it around her waist, and the weight of her breasts rests over him each time she leans over to scroll on the laptop. They watch videos, stupid short animations by other students, and laugh too much. Sam doesn't miss the library anymore.

It's intoxicating. Jess is intoxicating. She's full of energy and he loves her, God, like he's never loved anyone before. He's known love, and he's loved fiercely; when he thinks of love, he thinks of his brother, even now that the memory and the million miles separating them each day hurt like hell. But this is different. It's like he's gone blind and every breath he draws is just Jessica, her scent and her smile and her presence and her bright eyes and the paint caught under her nails when she presses them over his lips. He could eat her alive and never grow satisfied. She teases him about his sweating, the dampness of his skin all over, and turns around, her soft, round thighs wrapping around him. She's so close, and her hips press into Sam, and she's all too aware of it - all too decisive about it. Sam's heart races when she pulls off his shirt and he's not sure if he's ready for this, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it. He wants to sink inside her, disappear within her skin and become one with the sunshine inside: he wants to drown until none of the pain and darkness in his past exists anymore. This girl could cleanse him, and he's all too ready to be pure.

They kiss for a long time. Her mouth is spring water, gentle rain and the lingering taste of cherry soda; her fingers trail the back of his neck, his hair, the curve of his ear. Her nose pokes into his eye when she kisses him on the cheek, and his own squishes against her face when he kisses her as close to her neck as he dares. She's rocking into him, as if she's not aware of it, yet each move is calculated, teasing, and she's still giggling and grinning and looking at him like he hung the moon.

He lifts her up and lays her over the table, her legs dangling down the edge until one climbs up over his backside; he breathes into her ear, nips at it, and confesses that he's never slept with anyone before. That he's - scared, but he wants it. Wants her. Wants the warmth of her. Wants all of her.

(Could marry her on the spot.)

She watches him quietly for a moment afterwards, fingers gently running through his hair, pushing the short curls behind his ear. Her eyes are intense, the colour in them highlighted by the dark lines of her lashes surrounding them. Unlike him, it seems that she's never been afraid to be who she is. Then she nods and asks him if he wants to do something else instead - he doesn't. Her smile is softer now, less teasing, and she slips off the table and takes his hand and brings him in her bed. They lie there close, legs tangled, for a moment before she tells him she knows how it feels. That she loves him, and Sam tells her the same but she brushes her finger over his lips again: she talks about Jasmin, her girlfriend when she was only 15, and how scared she was when she first touched her that way. How she felt like she wasn't prepared for it. How it was almost the same with her first boyfriend a year later, as if she was doing the first time all over again. And she waits for Sam to say something, anything, but Sam doesn't know what to tell her so he kisses her instead. She holds his hand and he hides his face in the crook of her neck and breathes her in.

Finally, he asks her if she liked it; if she made the right decisions in the end. A part of him is nervous, doesn't want to hear her regretting it, but she laughs again, this time a timid little laugh, and nods against his face.

Loved it, she says. Every moment of it.

"Even the parts that were bad."

He laughs with her when she talks about the awkwardness of trying to finger a girl with long nails, and how she had to sneeze right when the oral was getting good. It's 3pm when he starts feeling better. The fear in him melts and he wants her, wants her so bad that he takes her shirt off, leaving her with nothing but her starry panties and her long hair covering her shoulders. She leaves paint stains on his chest when she climbs on him, undoing his belt and his jeans underneath her. When he kicks his clothes off, the two of them stay like that for a while, watching each other, fingers drawing out maps around their bodies. It's hard to breathe. Defying the heat, Sam throws the blanket over them and climbs to meet her in the middle, kissing her in the suffocating darkness beneath the rainbow patterns, and there's magic in that moment, in how she fits in his lap, in how she holds his hands when they rock together. He's probably more wet than she is, and afraid he's going to lose it before they get anywhere, but Jess, as if picking up on that fear, tells him she wouldn't even mind. Just having him like this, hearing the want in his every exhale, makes her see stars.

And he's seeing them, too, just in a little more literal sense. Can't keep his eyes off her hips, the way her body presses against him, and he's panting, feels like a dog left tied up in the desert sun. She kisses him between the brows and over his eyes and hushes him and presses him down on the bed, throws off the blanket from around them and stands up. She closes the curtains, turns off the lights and comes back to him with her backpack dangling from her fingertips. She sits beside him and gives him another of her teasing looks before digging inside, and he sits there beside her feeling his heart climb up his throat and his every atom pulsing in tune with it.

"Close your eyes."

He's never been more aware of himself, but he rests on his back with his hand up in her hair as she undresses him. She's kissing him all over, leaving small wet prints over his chest and his stomach, but nowhere he feels he couldn't let her in yet. She's reading him like an open book and only with permission does she touch his erection; her fingers wrap around him gently, gives him a run-through accompanied by a warm sound of appreciation, before she covers him up with a condom. Sam chuckles with her while she struggles, peering out of one eye; he realises soon she's just as naked as he is, and closes his eyes again in shock.

"I never said I was a pro," she breathes out shakily after her fingers release him again.

He's shivering and misses the blanket dearly, but he feels like this is the moment he can look at her again, and their eyes meet soon after.

"You don't have to be," he tells her, barely recognising his own voice, "I love you like this."

He doesn't know the time when his body joins hers. She sinks over him, and he can barely breathe: the air gets stuck somewhere in his throat and instead of it out comes a long, surprised moan at the sensation he's never felt before. Their foreheads touch and he's propping himself up against the wall behind the bed, hands touching and not touching but wanting to touch her hips as she rests her weight over him. She kisses him, rubs their noses together, smiles; she does everything to calm him down, and he doesn't know how to tell her how thankful he is for this, for her, for having her in his life, for having come here in the first place. His heart hurts and some part of him finds itself thinking back to the king who died of heart failure with his lover still riding him. Her beauty seems to render him speechless, so he doesn't make a comment about it.

She would have laughed if he had, he's sure of it.

Her touch guides his hands where she wants them, and his fingers shape around her waist, feeling the satin-like heat of her body over him. Her breaths are as strained as his when she starts rocking, and at first all he can do is hold himself together.

"Tell me what to do," he pleads, feeling the wetness of her breath against his lips and the echo of his own words bouncing back from hers.

She takes his hand, singles out two digits and brings them down her body. He feels them brush over the curly hair over her pubic bone, and then she presses them into her flesh, rubs them against herself in a circular motion as her body slows down over him.  
"Can you do that?" she asks him, her grin toning her voice. 

"Yeah," he replies, his own voice sounding dumb in his ears, so dumb that he feels heat rushing up his cheeks and painting his embarrasment visible on his face.

"Good boy," she says but she says it against his mouth and they're kissing again, and Sam doesn't have the capacity to worry if he's doing it right: her body clenches around his length when he starts moving his hand, and he treats her the best he can, imagining her a level or two more sensitive than he would be and touching her according to that idea.

She's soft and her hair's silky but thick and she smells like salt water and tastes more and more like the cherry soda, as if she's had a drink between the time they sat by the table and here. She's wild, too, like a river coursing towards a waterfall, and he likes that, he realises, likes it better the rougher she gets. He loves the steadiness of her, too, on those times she slows down and sinks all the way over Sam until they're one as far as he can reach, and the way she looks at him with her raw-kissed lips parted, letting out those deep breaths as she watches him, her pupils wide and rose-colour blush over her cheeks and around her mouth. She's got a scab on her chin and Sam brushes the tip of his nose against it, then finally sinks his lips against her throat, and he kisses her and sucks at her and she's riding him again, her warmth and texture driving him right towards the edge despite the rubber ring choking back the sensation. He's more than thankful about it, and about the times Jess just stops moving and starts kissing him instead while he still keeps rubbing her to keep the soft sounds coming from somewhere way deep inside her throat - it's like he's addicted - because each pause lets him recover just enough to make it through another course, and if he could choose, he'd never stop. He'd want it to last forever, and it's like he's really drowning in her and like she's lighting him up inside where no light has reached before; he feels so safe with her, so loved and so right it's hard to believe he could feel as whole anywhere else on earth. He laughs despite not knowing why he'd do so, but she's laughing right with him, and for a moment they have to stop just to get that out of their systems. Jess has her paint-stained fingertips inside Sam's mouth when it all ceases, and it's Sam's turn to buck into her, and carefully, a little timidly, he throws her over onto the bed and takes the lead. She wraps her legs around him and she sounds so good when he rocks into her, with her head bent as far back as the pillow beneath allows for her, and he kisses her neck and her collarbones and her breasts and her shoulders and her arms and even the crook of her arm, at which point she slaps him on the head and laughs. He can feel her laughter around his body and the only response he's got is a choked moan as he pushes further in, staying there for a while to feel her that close to him, almost as if they've become one in that moment.

She shines when she lifts her hips and rubs them against him, and just like that, he's gone. A sob-like gasp leaves him as he bends towards her, and she holds him as his body trembles through the waves of pleasure. She's petting his hair, kissing his head and she's steady and firm like an anchor carrying him through it, and in that place he feels himself resurfacing, his mind clearing through the mess she's built inside him, and he breathes against her, shaking, while an intense sensation of relaxation spreads into him. They stay like that for what seems like forever, with her arms and legs around him and him holding his body up just enough for her to not have to carry its whole weight, and he's slipping out of her, the fading contact between them throbbing in his veins almost painfully before he pulls back and ends it. He stays on his knees for a moment before discarding the used rubber; he feels strangely self-aware doing it, but Jess is looking out the window with a smile on her.

"So," Sam breathes out, shaking but smiling at the same time, and he catches her attention swiftly enough, "we're not done yet, are we? I can't promise anything, but if you'd like that... I'll try not to sneeze before you're ready."

She lights up, then winks.  
"I knew I loved you for a reason."


End file.
